


Look After Them

by Beleriandings



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-22
Updated: 2013-09-22
Packaged: 2017-12-27 08:42:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/976762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beleriandings/pseuds/Beleriandings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nerdanel tries to leave without too many painful goodbyes, but her eldest son knows her too well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Look After Them

She felt selfish. She knew she was leaving for her own sake, there was no way she could deny it, and her youngest boys were still children. She knew that she was essentially placing the responsibility of bringing up their younger brothers on her three eldest sons, and she hated herself for it. But still she left. She was not the same person she had once been. She felt weak and useless, powerless to deny the fact that she had to get out of this house, this life. In the end, she didn’t plan it, she just decided to ride away one day. She and Fëanáro had argued again that morning. It had seemed an unremarkable argument at the time, not particularly long or bitter, by their usual standards. But she knew it was the end. That day, when she saw the open door, and the road that could take her back to her father, her mother, her sisters, she chose to take it. There would be no protracted goodbyes, and if there had been she wasn’t sure she would have been able to go at all. All she could do was to leave a note behind. But as she was leaving, she heard a voice even as she opened the gate.

“Amil!”

She sighed. This would be painful, for them both. She dismounted from her horse and caught his eye. “Maitimo.”

“You’re leaving.” It wasn’t a question.

“I am.”

He looked at her, several different expressions vying for position in his grey eyes. Pain and anger and relief and sadness, all at once. Finally he spoke.

“I think… I think I knew this was coming. I didn’t quite want to believe it. But it’s probably for the best.”

She swallowed and looked at the ground. “I am sorry.” She said, her voice brittle. “I can’t… I just can’t…” No. She would not cry. She would not allow herself to cry. It would only hurt her son, she knew.

She gathered herself. “Look after your brothers. Especially Ambarussa. They are still so very young.”

“Always, amil, always.”

“Tyelko will be angry. He may well not be able to forgive me, and I do not ask him to. Curvo… I worry most about Curvo. He has so much of your father in him, and sometimes I feel like I don’t know him anymore. Macalaurë will be all right, I think. He is stronger than he appears, stronger even than he knows. Moryo… I can’t say.”

There was a short silence. Nerdanel stared back at the house, painfully aware that every second she delayed would make it harder for her to leave. And someone else might see them, try to stop her…

It was as if Maitimo read her thoughts. “You should go, I suppose.”

“I should.”

She stood on tiptoes to press a firm kiss to the top of his head, his hair tickling her face. (He still had to lean forward and lower his head. He was so tall now, she thought.) Then she turned around without a word, mounting her horse again, and rode away without looking back.

He stood there for a long time, staring at the diminishing bright spot of his mother’s red hair until he couldn’t see it anymore. Then he sat down on the steps leading up to the door, long legs drawn up beneath his chin, arms folded across his chest, eyes closed. For a long time he sat like that, perfectly still. Thinking. After a while, Macalaurë appeared at the door of the house, and wordlessly sat down on the step beside him. He held a single folded sheet of paper. Maitimo opened his eyes, and raised his head towards his brother.

“She’s gone, hasn’t she?” Macalaurë spoke slowly, hesitantly. “I found her letter.” He indicated the paper in his hand.

Maitimo looked at him, his eyes filled with pain. “Yes. She’s gone.”

 


End file.
